


the one where taemin crashes into jonghyun's life, like, literally

by katrinawritesthings



Category: SHINee
Genre: Aromantic, Brotp, Fantasy, Multi, NB, Nonbinary, Other, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-10-21 09:57:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10682943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katrinawritesthings/pseuds/katrinawritesthings
Summary: “You’re a real blessing, aren’t you?” Jonghyun asks. The angel grins at him and throws him a wink.“You can just call me Taemin,” they say.ft. on2minit's like this but like not angsty and way less ro ((tw blood tho))tumblr





	the one where taemin crashes into jonghyun's life, like, literally

Jonghyun knew he was right. **  
**

All his life he’d believed in angels. Supernatural shit. Demons. Wixen. Dragons. El Chupacabra. The Easter Bunny he’s still a little iffy on for anatomy reasons, but he has bigger things to worry about right now.

Such as, how he always knew he was right about angels being real, and how he’s just had this confirmed in what he’s sure is the most violent way possible.

He steps cautiously towards the huge fucking crater in the middle of his backyard garden, follows the way it sharply deepens right down his rows of onions and ends with a mound of dirt under his tangerine tree. Inside, an angel, obviously, pure white mid-thigh dress, gorgeous wings at awkward angles, skin that isn’t pale but seems to glow ever so faintly with a soft white light, and a stark trickle of red blood falling down their face from under messy black bangs.

Jonghyun thinks he’s going to skip going to the gym today.

As he crouches down at the edge of the hole, the angel starts to stir. They scrunch their face, push themselves up on their forearms, lift one hand to rub their neck.

“Fuck,” they groan, “oh my fucking god, what the fuck,” and Jonghyun raises his eyebrows.

“I thought language like that was kind of foul for an angel?” he asks. The cursing and the taking God’s name in vain or whatever. Jonghyun thinks that’s a thing that believers aren’t supposed to do. The angel looks up at him with a grimace, pushing their hair out of their eyes and hissing when their hand touches their wound.

“That’s because none of you humans ever take the time to remember that _we_ were humans too before we died,” they grumble. “No one’s perfect.” They fall back into the dirt; Jonghyun isn’t sure if that was entirely intentional or not. With one hand they reach lazily above them for the tangerine tree, the little fruit dotting its branches. “Are those ripe?” they ask quietly. Then their eyes close and they pass out.

Jonghyun stares blankly into the hole for a few seconds, at the angel sleeping in his onions.

Well, all fucking right then.

~

Jonghyun isn’t exactly sure how hard the angel hit their head when they crash landed in his garden, but he feels like they should be waking up again soon. It’s been over an hour of them all bundled up on his couch. Their cut wasn’t even that deep when Jonghyun gently pushed their hair out of their face to clean and bandage it. He’s in the kitchen now, fixing up what he’s sure is an extremely inadequate lunch for an angel for whenever it is that they decide to wake up. He’s sure they haven’t just slowly died on his couch or anything while he wasn’t looking. He doesn’t think they can die _twice._ They’ll probably be blinking those pretty brown eyes open in a few--

“Hey.” A low voice breathes right next to his ear as sudden hands appear on his waist accompanied by a loud, feathery whooshing noise. Jonghyun jumps, whacks his knee on a low cabinet handle, and drops his knife dangerously close to his foot as he struggles to turn around.

“Jesus-- _fucking_ Christ,” he hisses, glaring up at the angel. The way they fold their wings back and clasp their hands innocently in front of them isn’t matched in the slightest by the shitty little smirk they’re giving him. It’s a stark contrast in expression from their sleeping face, which Jonghyun had some trouble looking away from earlier because it was so sweet and pretty. “Fuck you,” he snaps. Their grin widens even more.

“I thought that language was foul,” they say disapprovingly. “I’m pretty sure JC doesn’t like that.” Jonghyun huffs.

“I don’t even believe in him,” he grumbles. The angel raises an eyebrow; Jonghyun grimaces. “Okay, I mean, I do,” he clarifies, “but I believe in everything else too. And he’s not exactly high up on my list of priorities.” He has other afterlife shit to worry about. It hits him then that the angel called Jesus “JC” and he squints at them accusingly. What a little shit. “Are you feeling okay?” he asks, changing the subject. “How’s your head?”

“Uh, better, thanks,” they say. They stop smirking in favor of reaching up seriously to brush their fingers over the bandage. “Is that for me?” they ask next, pointing at the grilled cheese sandwich Jonghyun was trying to cut up before he was so rudely interrupted. Jonghyun nods. He bends down to pick up the knife, throws it in the sink, and pulls out a new one to finish.

“It’s not heavenly ambrosia kissed by the holy spirit or whatever it is you have up there,” he says, handing the angel their plate, “but it’s crispy and warm.”

“That’s all any food ever needs to be, to be honest,” the angel says. They take the plate and take a bite of the sandwich before they even sit down. Jonghyun snorts as he watches them slouch with one arm over the back of his kitchen chair, legs spread so wide their dress rides almost too far up.

“You’re a real blessing, aren’t you?” he asks, sitting down with his own grilled cheese. The angel grins at him and throws him a wink.

“You can just call me Taemin,” they say. It surprises a laugh from Jonghyun and he shakes his head. He never expected angels to be this chill. If Taemin didn’t have the wings it would be like just some regular person sitting at his kitchen table. He props his chin up in his hand and observes them curiously.

“How’d you fall?” he asks.

“I dunno,” Taemin shrugs. They pull off a piece of their sandwich and grin at the way the cheese stretches. Jonghyun puts his other hand under his chin also.

“How are you gonna get back?”

“No idea.”

“So you’re just gonna stay here?”

“I guess.”

“What if I can’t afford that?”

“I’m sure I could find a church somewhere.”

“Did it hurt when you fell from--”

“Shut the fuck up with that joke right now.”

“Pronouns?”

“He.”

“What’s with the dress?”

“Gendered clothes are for squares. And so is gender.”

“How’d you die?”

“That’s rude.”

“ _When_ did you die?”

“What year is it?”

“Two thousand and sixteen.”

For the first time, Taemin looks up from his grilled cheese with a pensive little frown. Jonghyun raises his brows; they were on a roll there. He’s kind of disappointed.

“What _month_ is it?” Taemin asks.

“Uh, the end of May,” Jonghyun says, glancing at the calendar on the wall behind him. Taemin blinks, then looks at the table, and then at the ceiling.

“Huh,” he says. He lifts his eyebrows and shakes his head in an expression that Jonghyun recognizes as “that’s fucking weird.” He guesses Taemin either lost track of time up there or it just moves really differently. Taemin takes the last bite of his sandwich before he shrugs at Jonghyun. “October last year,” he says. “Not even Halloween, just, like, the ninth or something.” He pouts at his plates as he wipes crumbs off of his fingers. Jonghyun snorts. He doesn’t even know why he’s surprised at Taemin’s disappointment. “Do you have any milk?” Taemin asks then, looking up.

“Do you even need to eat?” Jonghyun asks. “Like, you’re already dead. It’s not like you can starve.”

“Okay, yeah, but, I’m thirsty,” Taemin says pointedly.

Jonghyun rolls his eyes and stands up to get a glass.

~

“Have you ever had sex with an angel before?”

Jonghyun looks up from where he’s tapping out little jams on his phone to turn into songs later. Taemin is looking at him instead of the tv he demanded Jonghyun let him use after dinner (“Look, being dead didn’t stop me from watching my shitty judge shows up in Heaven and crashing back down onto this planet won’t either,” he’d said). He looks curious and interested and the slightest hint of horny and Jonghyun cocks a brow. Is the angel really trying to get into his pants right now?

“Someone in an angel costume fucked me at a Halloween party once,” he says. While in a devil costume himself. It was a fun time. Taemin slides off of the couch and presses right up against him on the floor, one hand walking dainty fingers over his thigh.

“Wanna try the real thing?” he asks lowly. Jonghyun does nothing to stop the fingers sneaking between his legs, but he does put his elbow on the seat of the couch and rest his head in his hand, amused.

“Wouldn’t it be like, three different kinds of sin?” he asks.

“Sex isn’t sin,” Taemin replies, quick as lightning. Jonghyun snorts. Well, he guesses an angel would know. Still, though.

“It’s been, like, five hours since you crashed into my garden,” he says. This seems a little fast, even for him. Taemin shrugs that bit of information away like water off of his wings.

“Do you want to?” he asks. He slides his hand over Jonghyun’s other thigh to rest on the ground by his hip, hovering over him without touching. Jonghyun puts his hand on Taemin’s waist himself, feeling the soft material of his dress, tugging it up just an inch to reveal more of Taemin’s thigh.

“You have a dick under here, right?” he asks. He’s a man of singular interests. Taemin nods. Jonghyun notices that his eyes are trained on his lips so he licks them slowly just to fuck with him. It makes Taemin press minutely closer, just like he thought it would. Somehow he’s not surprised.

“Do you want to?” Taemin repeats, voice even lower than before, a husky tone  breathed so close to Jonghyun’s ear.

Jonghyun reaches up and tangles his fingers in soft black hair, tugging Taemin down to connect their mouths as his answer. Why the fuck not. It’ll probably be the best fuck of his life.

He quickly drops that thought a few minutes later when Taemin tries to jerk him off a little and just… sucks at it. He tells Taemin this, straight up, as he shoos his hand away and does it himself. Taemin pouts, gripping his own dick instead.

“I’m not used to the angle,” he mumbles, but Jonghyun can tell it’s just a half-assed excuse. “I know how to take a dick, though, don’t worry about that,” the angel adds earnestly. Jonghyun hums. He waits for Taemin to prove it before he believes it--which Taemin does extremely well. He sinks down on Jonghyun’s cock after stretching himself with barely more than a hiss of pleasure, hot and tight and breathtakingly good. Jonghyun gets his hands on his waist and holds him there, head thrown back against the couch. Taemin uses the time to unbutton his plaid shirt and push it off of his shoulders, feeling up his chest greedily.

Part of his pause is so he doesn’t come embarrassingly quickly. The other part is to think about the important shit, like how Taemin probably isn’t in pain right now because he does this regularly and how he’s probably not going to get an STD from unprotected sex with a literal angel. He’s pretty sure disease doesn’t exist up there.

With that reassurance in his mind, Jonghyun lowers his hands to fit under the dress on Taemin’s hips, pushing it up so he can clearly see the way Taemin rides his cock. He pushes himself deep, rolling his hips and slamming down hard, one hand tugging at Jonghyun’s hair and the other at his own cock. A stream of filth that Jonghyun isn’t as surprised as he should be at is falling from his lips with no filter between the curses and the praises and the demands for more. Jonghyun digs little crescent nail marks into Taemin’s soft skin as he fucks up as much as he can from his position, snapping his hips and tugging Taemin down to meet him as hard as Taemin wants him to.

Taemin bites him when he comes, right where his neck meets his shoulder, but only for a second. Then he seems to decide that he doesn’t want to muffle his groan and pulls away, letting it leave his lungs fully, eyes shut tight and lips swollen red as he shoots over Jonghyun’s stomach. Jonghyun would have come from that image alone, but the addition of his wings, spread fully out behind him in an almost blinding white, individual feathers twitching with the force of his orgasm, sends Jonghyun hurtling over the edge almost before he even realizes it.

He comes inside of Taemin’s ass as he holds his hips and fucks up into him. His last few thrusts are more forceful than the rest, enough to make Taemin jerk and gasp and whisper more curses through a bitten lip, one hand bracing himself on the couch over Jonghyun’s shoulder. It’s one of the hottest things Jonghyun has ever seen and he stares at the way pearly whites dig into plush pink. If Taemin allows it, he’s totally going to ask if he can come there next time.

~

When Taemin steps out of Jonghyun’s bathroom, his hair is damp, his eyes are droopy, his skin glows, and he looks one hundred percent adorable with one of Jonghyun’s buttonups thrown loosely on over his shoulders. He also has on a pair of Jonghyun’s sweats, a little short on him, but at least he’s warm enough. He smothers a yawn in his hand before he reaches to turn the bathroom light off and Jonghyun swears in that moment, with the light still on behind him, framing him, surrounding his entire being, that he is the purest thing Jonghyun has ever seen in his life.

“I think I’m in love,” he says, recognizing the fluttering of his heart. Taemin runs his fingers through his hair and looks absolutely fucking gorgeous doing it and Jonghyun _knows_ that he’s in love with this angel. Then Taemin swats the light off and snorts unattractively.

“You ro people are fucking wild,” he mutters. He peeps curiously into a little container on Jonghyun’s dresser and closes it when he realizes that it’s just spare change. “It hasn’t even been a day and somehow you’ve fallen for me,” he scoffs. Jonghyun pouts at his dismissal. Rude.

“You’re the one that wanted to ride my dick after five hours,” he points out. That’s even faster. Taemin flaps a dismissive hand and also a dismissive wing, stepping forward to look around the rest of Jonghyun’s room.

“Not the same at all,” he says. Jonghyun snorts. Sure. Taemin comes right up to his bed and picks up the corner of the sheets. “Anyway, move over,” he says. He puts his knee on the bed and starts to wiggle under the covers; Jonghyun puts his hand on his knee with raised brows.

“Uh, excuse me,” he says. “I didn’t invite you in here.” No angels allowed in his bed. No anybodies allowed in his bed. Jonghyuns only. Taemin gapes at him, offended.

“Excuse _me_ ,” he scoffs. “Where else am I going to sleep?”

“Somewhere that doesn’t get feathers all over me?” Jonghyun suggests, gesturing at Taemin’s wings. He’d like to not deal with that. Taemin flaps his wings once in a way that Jonghyun could only describe as aggressive. Jonghyun frowns, giving him a sharp glare. “None of that,” he says. “Sleeping with people makes me uncomfortable. I don’t like being touched nonsexually.”

“Sleeping with people makes me uncomfortable, I don’t like being touched nonsexually,” Taemin parrots back at him, mocking his tone with a rude little frown. Then he sighs and crosses his arms. “Fine,” he huffs. “Can I crash on your couch?”

“Go for it,” Jonghyun shrugs. “There’s extra blankets and shit in the third hallway closet.”

“Thanks,” Taemin grumbles. Jonghyun can tell that when he flaps his wings as he turns around he does it as obnoxiously as possible and rolls his eyes. “Fucking fuck a dude and he won’t even let you sleep in the same bed,” he hears Taemin grumbling as he walks out. “He’s in love with me and everything. Fucking bullshit.” He chuckles softly as Taemin’s voice fades down the hallway. He’ll make an extra good breakfast or something tomorrow before he goes out shopping. That should get him back in Taemin’s good books.

~

Jonghyun stands in the candy aisle of the grocery store, pursing his lips as he looks between the white chocolate chips and the regular chocolate chips. He doesn’t know why, but Taemin strikes him as a white chocolate kind of dude. But then, he could be wrong, and Taemin won’t want any of the cookies he’s gonna bake, and then he’ll be the asshole. He shrugs and puts the white chocolate back on the shelf. Taemin definitely isn’t the dude to turn down a regular chocolate chip cookie. He throws it in the cart with his other stuff and wheels it to the checkout line.

He hopes, when he pulls into his driveway a few minutes later, that Taemin is awake by now. Or at least snoring less obnoxiously on his couch. Nothing he had seen so far had really cemented the concept that angels are just humans with wings until he heard the absolutely horrific noise coming from Taemin when he got out of bed that morning. Now he thinks Taemin might also be part demon or something. There has to be something to explain that shit.

He’s drawn out of his thoughts halfway across his porch by a loud slamming noise; he looks up and into his front window. Taemin is off of his couch, but he’s not in the living room either. Instead, there’s another angel there: an angel in what looks like a white suit with their hands on their hips. Their back is turned to the window so they can look into Jonghyun’s kitchen, and if Jonghyun squints, he can see another pair of wings that seem taller than Taemin’s. Another loud bang makes him jump and he scuttles to the door, already left hanging wide open, and throws himself inside.

“Hey, what the fuck, you can’t just break into people’s houses and attack their angels, get the fuck- _-ow_ \--” A strong hand grips his arm to keep him from going into the kitchen. When he turns to snarl at the angel in his living room and tell them to let go, the words die in his throat almost immediately. His anger mostly fades to confusion because the angel is still just standing in the middle of room, at least seven feet away, but Jonghyun can still feel the grip on his arm even though nothing is there. “What the fuck,” he mumbles, trying to jerk his arm free. It doesn’t work; the angel gives him an amused little smile and beckons with one finger. Jonghyun stumbles over there, pulled by the invisible force around his arm. He huffs when he gets his footing again and frowns at the angel. “That’s cheating,” he says.

“Yeah,” the angel agrees simply. “I’m Jinki. Chill. We’re not attacking Taemin.”

“What the fuck is that then,” Jonghyun snaps, gesturing with his free hand at the kitchen when yet _another_ bang sounds through his house. He twists as much as he can to look at where he can just see the other tall angel standing in the doorway, blocking his view. Just the view of them from behind makes them look incredibly fucking intimidating. Jinki can’t tell him that they’re not using their angel magic or whatever to fuck Taemin up. When he turns to frown back at Jinki, though, they’re sighing heavily with an annoyed look.

“It’s Taemin being a little brat like usual,” they grumble. “You come all the way down to Earth to rescue him and he just whines about finishing breakfast. Like he can’t get whatever he wants when we get back.”

“I… what?” Jonghyun asks. He’s confused. Jinki lifts both hands to rub over their face with another sigh and Jonghyun feels his arm go free, but he doesn’t try to rush into the kitchen this time. “What do you mean, ‘ _finishing_ ’ breakfast?” he asks.

“I mean Taemin made a mess of your kitchen and I apologize for him,” Jinki says from under their hands. Jonghyun blinks. He doesn’t understand anything anymore. There’s another bang from the kitchen, but this time, in the silence, he can hear faint grumbling. Very familiar faint grumbling. He kind of takes a slow step backwards; when Jinki doesn’t stop him, he turns and walks all the way in there. He taps the tall angel on the shoulder to get their attention; they turn to him, arms crossed and stern frown, but step aside to let him in.

Taemin is grumbling by Jonghyun’s sink, a constant stream of complaints flowing from his mouth as he aggressively dries a fork and a whisk. He dumps the towel on the counter and yanks open Jonghyun’s drawers to put them away, then slams them shut loudly. Jonghyun closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh. He doesn’t know if he’s relieved or just tired. Next to him, the angel sighs in much the same way. Jonghyun notes that they’re dressed in just white sweats and an open sleeveless vest when he opens his eyes again. He guesses the only dress code up there is white.

“Fucking wake up and he’s not even here like no note or anything,” Taemin grumbles to himself as he grabs the frying pan off of the stove. “Like, are you at work or did you just fucking leave or what, I don’t fucking know, I don’t know when you’re getting back, no shit I’m gonna make myself some food.” He squeezes way too much soap into it and viciously scrubs it with the sponge. “And then _this_ asshole,” he snaps, gesturing at the tall angel without even looking (soapy water flies off of the sponge in his hand and splatters on the floor) comes and makes me clean everything and just _watches_ , like, why don’t you fucking help out a little bit if it’s so important, Minho?” He rinses the pan and grabs the towel again to dry it off. He dumps it in Jonghyun’s drawer and slams that shut too and Jonghyun thinks Jinki has kind of just lied down on his carpet in the next room.

Finally Taemin turns to glare at the tall angel--Minho--and when he does, his glare shifts to Jonghyun next to him.

“Oh,” he says. “You’re back.”

“Uh… yeah,” Jonghyun says. “I went shopping.” He gestures weakly in the general direction of his front door where he dropped his shopping bags in his excitement.

“Thanks for telling me,” Taemin mutters, crossing his arms. Jonghyun shrugs.

“Are you, like, leaving now?” he asks. He feels like the yes answer is obvious, but he just wants to make sure. Taemin nods as he fixes his dress.

“I threw your clothes in the laundry,” he says. “By myself,” he adds, throwing a quick glare at Minho. Jonghyun snorts. He’s sure he’s not as much of a trash baby as his angel friends say he is. Minho cocks a brow with a little smirk that Taemin huffs at. “Anyway,” he says, and starts towards the door. Before he can push between the two of them into the living room, Minho spreads their wings to block the door. Taemin frowns up at them. “What?” he asks.

Minho points with their toe at something at the floor: the drips of soapy water from before. Taemin takes one look and makes his most exaggeratedly heavy sigh yet, turning and stomping to the table to snatch up a napkin. He throws it on the ground and steps on it to wipe away the water, then kind of kicks it into the garbage can by the door.

“There,” he grumbles. “Happy?” He crosses his arms; Minho uncrosses theirs and smiles, wide and handsome. They sling an arm around Taemin’s shoulders and tug him into half of a hug. Taemin makes various disgruntled noises as they lead him into the living room. Jonghyun follows, kind of dazed, and watches Jinki flutter back up to their feet.

“You sure you’re okay?” they ask Taemin, gently lifting his bangs to check his bandage. Taemin flaps their hands away and fixes his hair.

“I’m fine, Jinki,” he says. “Really. Jonghyun patched me up really well.” He gestures at Jonghyun with a softer expression this time. Jonghyun smiles a little smile and waves a little wave. Jinki hums, then fixes the wrinkles in Taemin’s dress and pats his shoulders.

“Are you ready to go then?” they ask. Taemin nods, glances at Jonghyun, rubs his nose, and mumbles “one sec.” He steps slowly to face Jonghyun, smiling weakly but thankfully.

“Um, thanks,” he says. “For, you know, the food and letting me sleep here and… everything else.” He shrugs; Jonghyun grins. Taemin doesn’t want to admit in front of his friends that he fucked literally the first and only human he met after crashing into the earth. Jonghyun can’t imagine why.

“No problem,” he says. “I’m not gonna magically forget this or anything, right?” He would hate to actually go to Heaven one day and not be able to recognize Taemin there. Taemin shrugs and glances over his shoulder at the other two. The angels share a look; Minho signs something and Jinki nods before they turn back.

“Are you gonna tell anyone that would believe you?” they ask. Jonghyun thinks for a moment.

“I mean, Kibum, maybe,” he says. “He goes to the church by the mall every so often but I don’t know how deep he is about it all.” He never knows what Kibum is going to believe or not. He insists that unicorns are real, which they are, but scoffs at Jonghyun when he brings up aliens like they’re a fucking stretch or something. He notices Minho scrolling through a phone that they must have pulled from their pocket and cocks a brow. Angels with smartphones. What a fucking world he lives in.

After a second, Minho shows him a contact on the phone with a questioning look. It’s Kibum, with his hair color of the week and everything. Jonghyun isn't even going to ask how they have his info. It’s probably a fucking Christian database or something. There’s a little halo in the corner of the picture and Jonghyun assumes that means his friend is on the Heaven list. That’s reassuring.

“Yeah, him,” he confirms, when he realizes that the angels are waiting for an answer. Jinki shrugs at the answer and shoves their hands in their pockets.

“He won’t believe you,” they say simply. “Go ahead and tell him.”

“Nice,” Jonghyun grins. He’s gonna be so smug when Kibum gets up there and finds out that he was right. Jinki reaches for Taemin’s hand; again, Taemin wiggles away. He reaches up and fluffs their hair at the back of his head.

“Can I hug you?” he asks Jonghyun. “I know you don’t like touching, but, I mean, just a little bit?” He smiles hopefully; Jonghyun hesitates, then smiles apologetically and just holds out his hand. Taemin takes it gratefully anyway and shakes twice. “Thanks,” he says again. This time when Jinki takes his hand, he steps back, linking his arm with Minho’s as well. “I’ll watch over you or whatever,” he says, giving Jonghyun a bright smile and a wink.

“Hey, what’s that?” Jinki asks, pointing over Jonghyun’s shoulder. Jonghyun glances behind him but finds nothing.

“What’s wh--” He stops when he looks back and finds there’s nothing in front of him anymore either. They’re just fucking gone. “God damn it,” he mutters. That is so cheating. They didn’t even leave him a single dramatically cliché feather on the floor.

Later, when he’s trying to do his laundry, he finds several feathers in the shirt Taemin borrowed and rolls his eyes. Close enough, he guesses.


End file.
